


It's Not Fair

by MichyStar



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Also some MiYata if you squint, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Totsuka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichyStar/pseuds/MichyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lalochezia - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain." It doesn't make sense to Misaki why everyone has done nothing about Totsuka's death. To him it seems like the only one who actually cares is him, and it's not fair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Fair

It has been 3 days 12 hours 29 minutes and 30 seconds since Totsuka died.

But hey it’s not like he’s counting.

Currently, the remaining members of Homura—“It’s just one member less, Misaki.”—are idling around the bar as always. If it weren’t for the fact that it’s just ever so slightly quieter than usual no one would be able to notice that anything is wrong. But something is wrong.

Totsuka Tatara is dead.

And no one is saying anything about it.

That’s what’s wrong.

Maybe it’s because he’s the one who found him—who held him until his very last breath and who cried and screamed for him—that this is bothering Misaki a lot more than it should be. For the past three days he hasn’t been able to sleep, because every time his eyes shut he sees blood. It happens when his eyes are open too, and for a split second he can’t breathe because there’s blood on his shirt and face and hands when there shouldn’t be. Of course the sight of blood is nothing new to him after years of fighting on the street, but just the mere thought that it’s Totsuka’s makes him want to vomit.

Apparently having a fiery aura isn’t the only power Homura members possess; they also have the ability to ignore certain issues like why hasn’t Misaki been up and about or why Mikoto’s ‘naps’ are getting longer and longer. Maybe they do notice but can’t figure out what to do about it. The thought comforts him for a second—because hey at least they’re thinking about him—then infuriates him even more.

It’s noon now and the sun has started to come out of hiding. Filtered light fills the bar and shines on its occupants. For the most part it’s quiet; everyone has separated into their own little groups. Bandou’s listening to Akagi speak, looking more tired than annoyed. Dewa and Chitose are near the entrance, both talking to the other but neither actually listening. Eric (Misaki remembers feeling shocked when he saw the newest member of Homura shed tears at the news) and Fujishima are on the couch sharing a seemingly comfortable silence. Anna and Kamamoto are sharing some food while Izumo wipes a glass languidly. Mikoto, as expected, is in his room upstairs. Misaki is the only one by himself, sitting alone at the opposite end of the bar watching everyone interact.

Truth be told right now he should be upstairs with Mikoto trying to catch up on the hours of sleep he’s lost these past few days. But whenever he tries to will his legs to move they just won’t. Part of him wants to believe this is just a dream, and that in a few more minutes he’ll be woken up to go out patrolling. Deep down he knows that will never happen.

So for now he watches. He watches everyone pretend they’re ok. He watches them go on with their lives. And every moment of it aggravates him, grating on his nerves more and more until—

Somehow his legs have finally decided to move and he finds himself stomping to the middle of the bar, glaring at everyone as they stare at him. He can’t tell if he’s shaking from suddenly moving after sitting still for hours or from anger; possibly both. It feels like forever has passed before he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Just—why—just what the fuck are you guys doing! How the hell can you just stand here when Mr. Tot—”he knows everyone heard him choke up but he could care less right now, “his killer is still out there? While that bastard is still out there everyone else is just sitting on their asses!” By now everyone is definitely paying attention to him. When he looks around the circle now all he sees are expressions of guilt. This should be enough, this was the gist of what he wanted to say, but for some reason he can’t seem to stop. He’s starting to see red.

“And it’s not just sitting around; no one has said anything! What the hell makes you think that just a few tears and shit is going to cut it? He’s dead and you all are acting like he’s just out for another fucking walk. We’re Homura dammit, we’re supposed to be—no. We are the most feared clan here yet you all are acting like wimps.” From the corner of his eye he sees Anna heading towards the door leading upstairs, but he’s too far gone now and anger is consuming any rational thoughts he may have had.

“Yata,” the first one to speak up is Izumo, “calm down.”

The words do the exact opposite and anger him even farther. “Why should I? Why am I the only one who seems to give a fuck about this? You were there too, Kusanagi, you saw him too!” At this point Misaki is sure he looks more like a child clinging to some broken belief rather than an angry teenager, but his brain is still refusing to process anything that doesn’t amount to ‘fuck you.’

Izumo was never one to show too much emotion when it came to something other than his bar, so he just stared back at Yata with that annoying poker face of his. “We’ll talk about that once you calm down.”

“I’m not calming down till you give me a fucking answer!”

He hears a door opening, and judging from the sudden straightening up of the other members, he can only assume that Mikoto has entered the room.

“What’s going on?”

To hear his voice, well it’s conflicting to say the least. He’s always admired the king, the man who actually gave him somewhere to belong, but right now he’s so angry he’s not sure he won’t yell at him as well. At the same time he would rather take a beating than do anything against the king or say anything against him. It’s a tug-o-war that isn’t going to be won anytime soon. “King, I…” Anger is still apparent in his voice but he tries to hold back. It’s difficult though, for someone who always wears his heart on his sleeve. Now that he’s actually started this rage he’s not sure he can stop it that easily. 

But under that nonchalant gaze Misaki feels his whole being waver. He feels exposed, weak, and he hates it. “Why aren’t we doing anything? It’s not right to just sit here and do nothing.” The more he speaks the more he feels the anger coming back. Every word he grinds out hurts.

“What makes you say we aren’t doing anything?”

“Because we’re not. We’re not out there looking for the bastard who did this, we’re not…” He finds himself faltering when he sees Mikoto walking up to him. He’s sure he’s about to be scolded or told to calm down again when he feels an arm go around his shoulders, and suddenly he’s pressed against a sturdy chest. Just as quickly he feels himself being dragged upstairs—he can tell because he almost trips on the steps—and then he hears a door closing. 

He’s still being held against Mikoto’s chest and his first reaction is to struggle to get free. Normally this sort of contact with the older male would’ve made him estatic, but now he just wanted to leave. He’d already made a fool of himself. But Mikoto’s grip was strong and no matter how much he tried to pull away he couldn’t. 

He felt the other sigh rather than hearing it. “Ok, let it out.”

The words make him stop struggling for a moment, before starting again even harder. “I’m fine, let me go!”

“And here I thought you of all people would be happy for me to hold you.” There’s a chuckle under those words and it pisses him off.

“This is no joke! Mr. Totsuka’s dead and no one’s doing anything, they all are just sitting around on their asses like wimps!” He knows Mikoto set this up, tricked him so he finally did let it all out, but now that he’s started ranting again he can’t stop. With his face buried in his boss’ chest it’s hard to actually yell and scream like he wants to, so instead he opts to start hitting his hands against whatever surface he can find. There’s no real force in the hits—even when this far gone he’d never intentionally hurt the king. 

“Just, fuck them! Fuck them all, they don’t care about him if they can just sit around like this. They don’t deserve to be called members of Homura if they can’t even get up to avenge the death of a comrade. Even Kusanagi isn’t doing anything and he was there with me! I’m the only one who actually seems to be caring about this and it’s not right, none of this is. 

“Why did it have to be him? Why did the idiot have to go out by himself? It’s not fair. He loved everyone, and even though I know he hated fighting that’s what we should be doing. We should go get the person who did this and make him pay. I know it’s probably not what that idiot would want but it’s the only way this’ll get solved. Everyone else knows this but they..!”

The whole time he ranted on and on, cursing everyone he ever knew, Mikoto just stayed silent. 

“Just…fuck everyone.” He feels exhausted after yelling for so long. Pressing his face against Mikoto’s chest even more he starts to feel himself tear up, and soon enough he’s crying out everything that he’s held back for the last few days. Now that he’s actually let out all his anger all that’s left is a tired, weary feeling. Breathing is hard and with every sob that leaves his throat he feels himself shake. 

He feels Mikoto’s arm tighten around his shoulders and it just makes him cry harder. 

. . .

When he wakes up Misaki finds himself on the couch in the upstairs room. His head is pounding and his limbs feel stiff. When he sits up he notices the leather jacket covering his body. Gripping the leather in his hand he brings it up and covers his face for a moment before setting it down again. He’s not 100% sure he can go downstairs and face everyone just yet, but he does feel a great deal better.

Of course that’s until he realizes that he broke down in front of the king, yelled and cursed at him, and even hit him. He feels more like a kid now than ever before.

“Dammit…”


End file.
